


Spider Flu

by Groot_Is_God



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Cold, Common Cold, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective Tony Stark, Sick Character, Sick Peter Parker, Sickfic, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 11:00:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14872506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Groot_Is_God/pseuds/Groot_Is_God
Summary: Peter smiled despite his slight off feeling. All he had to do was make it through the day and then he got to hang out at his favorite place in the world. Easy enough… Right?orThe one where Peter gets sick, denies the fact, and goes to the tower to meet Tony anyways where Tony takes care of him. Major hurt/comfort this one is.





	Spider Flu

Peter woke up feeling uneasy, as if something just wasn’t right. His stomach felt a little off and his nose was running slightly, but other than that, everything seemed normal. Normal enough not to worry Aunt May at least. He got ready for school and was about to leave when he heard a voice call to him from the bathroom.

“Hey, did you eat anything?” Aunt May asked, poking her head out the doorway, curiosity filling her face as she expertly curled her hair for an interview she had that morning.

Peter grimaced, and slowly turned around. He hadn’t gotten anything to eat, but his stomach didn’t feel like it really wanted anything added to it. He plastered a smile onto his face, meeting his aunt’s eyes with false serenity.

“Almost forgot, I’ll grab something for the train.” He lied, dashing into their small kitchen and grabbing a granola bar from the cabinet. May’s eyes followed his movements skeptically but nodded when he held up the bar for her to see and waved as he scrambled out the door.

Peter made it onto the train just as the doors closed. He spotted an empty seat near the front of the car and beat an unhappy looking businessman to it. The man scowled and continued a conversation on his earpiece. Peter snickered causing his stomach to growl unhappily. He stopped suddenly, forcing his mouth shut just in case something decided to come out. Nothing did, and Peter felt himself relaxing.

Peter’s pocket buzzed, and he pulled his phone out. A text from Mr. Stark popped up on the screen, _‘Hey you want to come by the tower later? Have some new designs for you to look at.’_

Peter didn’t give his answer a second thought. _‘Sure’_ he texted back. He considered adding an exclamation point but decided he didn’t want to sound too desperate.

His phone buzzing once again brought him out of his train of thought. Another text from Mr. Stark had appeared in response, _‘K, I’ll send Happy to pick you up after school.’_

Peter smiled despite his slight off feeling. All he had to do was make it through the day and then he got to hang out at his favorite place in the world. Easy enough… Right?

_____________________________

Peter made it to lunch before everything started going downhill. His little sniffle had turned into a full-blown cold, complete with congestion and a headache, and his stomach still hadn’t settled down. His nose felt like sandpaper and Peter knew that he’d probably gone threw at least half a tissue box by himself.

After Peter sniffed and blew his nose for the fifth time within the first 10 minutes of lunch Ned had had enough.

“Why don’t you just go to the nurse and get May to bring you home?” Ned suggested, looking his friend up and down. Peter’s skin was pale and clammy looking, his nose bright red. His eyes were glassy and dull with large purple bags underneath them.

“Huh?” Peter mumbled. He hadn’t been paying attention to anything that Ned was saying, instead focusing on how crappy he felt.

“You’re sick.” Ned stated, giving Peter _‘the look’_.

“No m’not.” Peter protested, his raspy voice not helping his case any. He blew his nose again, not daring to look Ned in the eyes.

“Of course, you’re not sick. You’re just cranky, congested, and look half dead every day.” Ned said sarcastically.

“Shove off.” Peter muttered, grabbing another tissue from the box in front of him. Mrs. Warren had given him the box after Peter had gone through a good portion of the one in her room.

“You should at least eat something…” Ned pressed, glancing at the untouched plate of food in front of Peter.

“Not hungry.” Peter told him, shutting his eyes for a moment. He just wanted to go home and curl up in bed, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. First, Aunt May had that interview today that she had been talking about all month. And second, Mr. Stark was expecting him after school.

“Yeah but with your metabolism…” Ned continued. Peter knew Ned wouldn’t drop it until he got what he wanted.

Sighing Peter opened his eyes and took a single French fry from his plate and placed it in his mouth. He chewed slowly swallowing bit by bit. His stomach turned uneasily, but thankfully nothing came up. He then looked up at Ned to see if his friend was satisfied.

Ned nodded happily and held his plate out for Peter’s trash. Peter gratefully loaded his own plate onto Ned’s outstretched one along with his slowly growing pile of tissues.

“Thanks.” Peter croaked as Ned walked over to throw out their trash.

“Just feel better.” Ned told him sincerely.

_____________________________

Peter made it to the end of the day without an incident, but nothing had gotten better. In fact, everything had gotten worse. His nose felt like a waterfall, constantly dripping and the pounding in his head was matching the rhythm. His stomach was continuously bubbling, not wanting to settle down anytime soon.

The final bell rang, allowing Peter to grab his things and dash out of the school, tissue box in hand. His first box had run out of tissues, forcing him to get another one from Mrs. Warren. She had given him a pitying look along with the same suggestion Ned had given him earlier, before handing him the box.

Happy was waiting outside and Peter hopped in the backseat. There was soft elevator music playing in the background along with the hum of the engine which grew louder as Happy pulled away from the curb into traffic. Peter laid his head against the cool window. His head decreased its pounding slightly, and he sighed in relief. He was exhausted, but knew sleep wasn’t an option so he settled for sitting in uncomfortable silence and drowning in his own misery.

Happy could tell something was up with the teen, he was never this quiet. Even after getting injured in battle and barely being able to stay conscious, Peter had been chattering nonetheless. Happy looked suspiciously at his passenger through the rear-view mirror but Peter had his head against the window in a way that blocked Happy’s view of his face. “So how was school?” Happy prompted, trying to get Peter to say something.

“Okay.” Peter rasped. His throat felt dry, as he hadn’t had anything to drink for fear of it coming back up. That combined with his sudden cold made his voice sound like crap.

Happy was about to say something more when they pulled up to the tower, saving Peter from having to answer more questions. Peter jumped out as soon as the car stopped, shooting Happy a quick wave before rushing to the doors of the building.

Peter entered and headed straight for the elevator. Normally he would chat with some of the workers in the lobby, but his stomach had decided to up the queasiness, making him want to get whatever Mr. Stark had planned over with so he could go home. Friday immediately took him down to Mr. Stark’s workshop, as he had apparently informed the AI that Peter was coming. Peter stopped in the doorway, glancing around until he spotted the engineer hunched over a table, parts strewn all around.

“Hey Peter, just drop your stuff by the door and come look at this.” Tony instructed, eyes glued to the project in front of him. Peter put his stuff down and quietly blew his nose, leaving his box by his backpack. He tossed the tissue into the garbage can before making his way over to where Mr. Stark was working, settling himself on a stool across from the inventor.

“So…” Tony started, looking up at Peter. His eyes widened in surprise at the teen’s state and he took a step back to lean against another table, arms crossed. “You look like crap.”

“Thanks.” Peter snorted, looking around for a tissue box. Tony pointed to one in a corner and Peter dashed over and blew his nose.

“Bring the box over.” Tony instructed, eyes following the sick teen. Peter obliged happily and brought the box back to the table with him.

“We could do this another time…” Tony offered as Peter got back onto his stool. Peter wanted to accept the offer and just go curl up on the couch in the corner of the workshop and sleep, but he didn’t want to be a hassle.

“M’fine.” Peter responded, “What did you want to show me?” Tony looked the kid up and down one more time before sighing dramatically and explaining his ideas.

Peter tried to pay attention but his vision unfocused as his stomach did somersaults and his head pounded. His tissue pile was growing steadily into a tissue mountain. Peter felt something hit his shoulder and jumped back to reality, catching a crumbled-up piece of paper. His vision refocused on Mr. Stark who was staring at him, scowling.

“Just stop.” Tony said, making Peter flinch. Stop what? Had he been doing something?

“You are sick, you shouldn’t be working.” Tony told him flatly.

“But m’not sick!” Peter protested while the rest of his body disagreed with him.

“Really? Then what was I saying?” Tony asked incredulously.

“Uhh…” Peter stuttered, racking his brain.

“I was telling you about suit upgrades, and then I threw something about koalas in there to see if you were paying attention and you weren’t.” Tony finished for him. Peter’s shoulders drooped, sensing defeat. “Go lay down, you clearly need the rest.”

“Really, I’m fine Mr. Stark, I just- “Peter started but the sudden need to sneeze combined with his stomach flipping violently caused him to stop. Peter sneezed, then gagged violently as vomit entered his throat. He tried to swallow it, his hand flying to cover his mouth, eyes shining with panic. Tony instantly realized what was happening and pushed Peter away from the expensive equipment and into the bathroom. Peter kneeled in front of the toilet still trying to swallow the rising vomit. He let out a wet belch, but clamped his mouth shut again before anything could spill out.

“Just let it out.” Tony told him, watching the suffering teen. Peter gave up fighting and heaved, vomit splattering into the bowl. Chunks swirled around while more and more entered. Peter’s throat burned as bile began to come up, the acid stinging his already hurting throat. Finally, nothing came up and Peter slumped back onto his heels, eyes closed, chin dropping onto his chest. He was exhausted and wanted to fall asleep right there, but something was being pushed into his hand.

“C’mon kid, take the washcloth unless you want me to clean you up…” Tony advised. Peter reluctantly took the cloth and cleaned himself up. He handed it back and heard it drop into the sink. Then he felt hands on his shoulders, guiding him up and pushing him out of the bathroom and onto the couch in the corner of the workshop. Peter laid down and felt a blanket be put on top of him.

Tony looked down at the teen sympathetically. He had been in that position before, sick but too stubborn to rest. “Kid, next time don’t overwork yourself when you’re sick, it’s not worth it.” Tony told him.

Peter seemed to ponder that for a minute. “Mr. Stark?” He mumbled.

“Yeah?” “At least I learned something today.” Peter said, sleep lacing his voice.

“And what is that?” Tony asked, intrigued.

“Sneezing when you’re nauseated is a really bad idea.” Peter replied sincerely, his breathing slowing.

“Peter?”

“M’mmm?”

“Shut up and sleep.”

**Author's Note:**

> I really do love writing for sick Peter Parker, it's a lot of fun. 
> 
> Prompt #353 thefakeredhead.com
> 
> Check out my tumblr for more! - groot-is-god.tumblr.com


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